


make me forget my sorrow

by ghosthorse_tracks



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthorse_tracks/pseuds/ghosthorse_tracks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during S2E4. A much darker rewrite of the scene where Joe and Gordon set up the mainframe for time-sharing in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make me forget my sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I ship Joe and Gordon, I just can't seem to write anything pleasant about them. This is what I have, and I hope it will do.

Gordon's eyes fluttered open. The floor beneath him was white, so white, and it burned. He sat up to find himself in a world of alien forms - tall, cloudy towers of white and blue. He moved to push up his glasses but felt no frame atop his nose.

He was in the mainframe room, slotting modems as fast as he could, he remembered. But his fingers were betraying him again - he struggled to control them, to keep them from faltering as he painstakingly slid each card into the rack, silently praying that Joe wouldn't notice.

Joe. He was out for a minute, fetching a few Cokes. They just didn't taste right since the formula change. Was he the only one who thought so? Joe, Gordon reminded himself. He'll be back any second. He hauled himself to his feet. He'd find his glasses later.

Joe held out one of the Cokes to Gordon. "You want one?" His expression shifted from confidence to concern at the sight of Gordon, leaning precariously against a tower. Joe set down the Cokes. "Are you all right? Did something happen while I was gone?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Gordon slurred. He wasn't fine, and he knew it, and he knew that Joe knew it. But he didn't mind having Joe's attention. It was like that weekend in the garage, he thought, back when Joe was a visionary helping Gordon to cultivate his genius, long before anyone at Cardiff knew the damage he could do.

Joe's countenance warmed, lips forming a smile. He placed his hand on Gordon's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Maybe you could use some help with these cards. Why don't you show me how to do it?"

The unexpected touch set Gordon's already-confused mind and body reeling. The burning ache spread from his shoulder to the place below his belt, where it lingered and grew. "You just take the cards - they face this way - and slide them into the rack like this." He demonstrated with slow, jerky movements.

Joe picked up a card. An effortless movement of his graceful fingers left the card right where it belonged in mere seconds. Everything about him was smooth, right down to his impeccable fine motor skills.

Had _he_ been that smooth once? Gordon wondered. He must have been, with steady hands and a steady mind, soldering circuit boards for hours on end. Donna liked his steady hands. Where was she, anyway?

Gordon watched Joe slot modem after modem, mesmerized. Suddenly it wasn't just his own fingers hindering his work - it was the thought of Joe's, and everywhere they had been.

He remembered Joe's hand on his throat, the other shoving him against a wall. Joe probably felt the blood pulsing in Gordon's neck, felt the adrenaline coursing through Gordon's body as it coursed through his own. A congratulatory pat on the back, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Two hands, starting fires, torching IBM BIOS code and Cardiff Giants alike.

He tried his best not to recall the memory of a darkened garage, an IBM PC, and the two of them. Even still, the memory came rushing up to the surface, the feeling of Joe's hands on his waist as the two of them kissed, open-mouthed -

"I think we're just about done here," Joe announced. He seemed to have hardly noticed that Gordon had stopped working. "And in plenty of time."

Gordon nodded his approval - maybe Joe's crazy midnight plan hadn't been such a bad idea after all. With the massive computer switched off for the night, the room's usual buzz of electricity and whir of spinning tape was absent, leaving an aural emptiness. But Gordon felt the buzzing in his head, saw stars and clouds before his eyes, and knew, faintly, that he needed to go, now.

"I guess I'd better get going. Let me know when this whole thing gets up and running," Gordon said, offering a weak wave goodbye. He turned and started toward the door, through the narrow corridor formed by two towering rows of mainframe components.

"Don't forget your glasses."

Gordon turned to see Joe lounging between the two rows, propping himself up with one hand and holding Gordon's glasses in the other. "Oh, thanks. I couldn't find them."

When he reached out to take them, Joe yanked them away, a grin on his face. "Let me do it." He stood nearly toe-to-toe with Gordon as he unfolded the glasses and slid them gently onto the other man's face, like slotting a modem. _Smooth._ He felt the heat and power of Joe's hands holding him steady as he crooned, "Now you can get a good look at me."

Joe shoved him up against the mainframe and kissed him hard, eyes wide open. Gordon stared back. He could feel Joe pressing into his thigh, eager and ready, and he felt his own body stirring with arousal. He couldn't remember the last time Donna had kissed him like this, like she wanted him. It felt strange to be wanted and stranger to be demanded.

Joe pulled away, panting, his mouth dripping with spit. "I want you to go to a doctor," he breathed.

Gordon took a tentative step toward the door, away from Joe and his dripping mouth. He wished he wasn't wearing his glasses. He didn't want to see Joe like this. "I'm fine, Joe. Don't worry about me. I just want to - "

"I know you're not fine." He placed a hand on the small of Gordon's back and stroked Gordon's face with the other. Joe's big hands feeling him, rough and hasty. "You're not yourself. You're suffering, you're clumsy, you're out of your head. I want you to be you again, like you were in that garage. Remember?"

Gordon did remember, of course he did. He didn't want to remember it, didn't want the feelings to creep into his consciousness, didn't want to give himself over to them. The long, hazy weekend they spent reverse-engineering the IBM BIOS. They were high on possibilities when they started, and they basked in the sense of accomplishment when it was finally finished. When they got stuck, they kissed; when they made a breakthrough, they kissed; and whenever they stared at each other long enough, they kissed.

He couldn't recall which reason led to Joe's mouth hot on his neck, the sensation nearly sending him to the edge. But when Joe slipped a hand between his legs, offering relief, Gordon pulled away. "I can't do this. Donna - Donna wouldn't like it."

"Go to a doctor. Do it for me." Joe's hands moved to Gordon's belt, ready to unhitch it.

"I can't. I need Donna. I need her right now." His belt was gone. He didn't look, but he felt fingers undoing his zipper.

"And where is she? Where the hell is she when you need her? Look at me." Joe's eyes burned fury. He had his hand around Gordon's throat. "I'm here for you right now. You need me. I need you. I need you to let me do this, and you're not going to argue with me."

Gordon nodded. He'd do anything to get Joe to let go of him. Joe was holding his neck so tightly that Gordon saw stars, until he nodded yes and Joe let go and the blood came rushing back to Gordon's addled brain.

_I want you to be you again_. Yeah, Joe, you and me both. He wanted his hands to stop shaking. He wanted Donna to love him. He wanted to know where he was and what the fuck was going on for once.

Braced against a blue tower, he thought he heard it humming softly.

Joe's hands were on Gordon's hips; his mouth was on Gordon's cock. He let up for a second. "You like this, don't you? You wanted this."

Gordon nodded, eyes empty. Coke sure did taste different since the formula change.


End file.
